Snapshots
by aquayao
Summary: Myrtle Webb has seen a peck of trouble, but she doesn't let it bother her one bit. Not until the end.


**Snapshots**

**I'm friends with the gal who posted "Louella's Boys" and I'm playing Myrtle Webb in our schools production of "Our Town". We talked about our fanfiction helping our characters develop but she posted hers first. No characters here are meant to resemble any of the cast. Hopefully, everyone's in character here. **

_**Agnus dei, qui tolis peccata mundi, miserere nobis. Agnus dei, qui tolis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem.**_

My stomach was bothering me again. I don't know what it was, maybe it was my age catching up to me. All those years of not paying attention to what I ate and looking out for the rest of my family caused my stomach to realize it was not my priority and begin to run on the little amount of food I gave it. I never found myself that hungry in the first place. Yet now that Emily was married and Wally old enough to be out of the home for a few extra hours, I found more time to take care of Charles and myself instead of our children. A bittersweet waste of time, thank you very much. It just didn't feel right to only cook for three people instead of four and thinking that as I'm cooking for my family, Emily's up and cooking for hers. It made me proud, but I still felt upset at the thought of my little girl not living with us anymore. And Wally was about 16 now, getting ready to grow up and I'm positive he had a sweetheart that Charles and I didn't know about.

Speaking of Wally, my heart lept when I remembered he would be due back from his camping trip any time now. He had been so excited about it, talking Charles and my's ears off at the breakfast and supper table about all the plants he had been reading up on, how Henry Hawkins and he had already planned out what they were going to do…goodness, I had never seen that boy so excited. Even Charles had commented on it on his way out the door to the market.

"I'll be back with that ginger as soon as I can, Myrtle," he cracked a smile. "Lord knows I don't want you having to listen to that boy go on and on alone. Who knows, he may have a story fine enough to put in the paper."

Stuck on the couch on Charles' orders, I rolled onto my side and stared at the photos of our family that graced our sitting room walls. One of Charles and me at our wedding, one of us with just an infant Emily sitting on my lap, then another with a toddler Emily and infant Wally. A photo from Emily's wedding. An entire history, wrapped up in a few snapshots.

"M's Webb?"

"Howie!" I got off of my seat, rushing to the door. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Newsome, my mind was elsewhere."

"Don't you worry," Howie didn't meet my eye as he handed me milk. Two bottles, not three. We only needed two now what with Emily gone. "Don't you worry. Mr. Webb mentioned you'd been feeling a little under the weather when I saw him at the market earlier, so I figured I'd just holler for you this morning when I didn't see ya in the window," a small pause as I put away the milk bottles. Oddly enough, Howie hadn't left to continue his route. Instead, Howie took off his cap, wringing it in his hands. He didn't look so well himself. When I went back to the door, he gave me a smile. "Myrtle, how's Wally? Seems like he was excited for his camping trip this weekend. North Conway, yeah?"

"Crawford Notch," I corrected, smiling. "It's about 8 now, correct?" A small nod from Howie. "Oh, he should be home anytime soon now. Are you feeling alright, Howie? You don't seem to well."

"Oh, I'm fine. Myrtle-I,"

"Howie?" Charles called, making his way towards the front door. "Everything alright, Howie? I saw Dot tied up out front."

"Dot?" I furrowed my brow, looking back to Howie. He explained that Bessie had passed away a few months ago, that Dot was a filly that was given as a gift from a neighboring farmer down the way, how his wife had passed a while after. Of course I had heard of this from George over dinner a week ago, but I hadn't had the nerve to bring it up to Howie himself. It was none of my business. Charles met me at the door, handing me the ginger. We extended our condolences to him, ready to head inside and get ready for our son's return.

"Mind if I stay? I understand if th' answer's no, but I need ta wait for Doc Gibbs and I don't believe M' Gibbs is home from visiting Rebecca yet." He looked so worn and upset that Charles couldn't say no, and niether could I. We invited him inside, Charles began to make coffee and I began to make ginger tea. His company was well needed after a quiet weekend and soon he had begun to tell stories about his farm and his nephews and nieces before we had another knock at the door.

"If anymore people decide they want t' stay we might as well host Wally a welcome back party, M's Webb!" Charles chuckled, helping me sit down at the table and kissing my forehead before walking to the door. We both ignored Howie's look of discomfort at our affection, but it was soon forgotten when Doc Gibbs walked into our kitchen, looking palid and weary. Howie stood up, offering the seat next to me to Charles. He sat down at the doctor's request and Charles offered his hand to me. I took it, feeling more nervous by the second. Was our grandchild sick? Was Emily? Maybe Wally had taken a fall and broken his leg.

"I'm sorry, Mr and M's Webb...I got the call last night. I did everything I could but by the time I got there, I was too late," Doc Gibbs rubbed his eyes, tears escaping every now and then. "Wallace died this morning up at Crawford Notch. His appendix burst last night and by the time I got there, he was…"

"That's enough," I felt nothing. Everything, every emotion, memory, whatever I could feel was gone. Charles held my hand tighter, eventually wrapping his arms around me and allowing me to openly weep in front of our two friends. My little boy. My little Wally. This had to be a prank pulled by Doc and Howie…this could not be real. In a few moments he would walk through the door and say 'Aw, ma, calm down! It was just a joke!' I would take anger and disappointment over the grief I felt at this moment.

"Emily's coming up soon," Doc told me. "I stopped by her first, since she's on the way. I didn't tell her what happened- it's not for me to tell her. You two deserved to know first,"

Howie's eyes were watering, too. "I'm so sorry, M's Webb, Mr. Webb. Doc told me someone had died this morning, but I had no idea who. Please accept my condolences and let me know if I can help with anything ya need."

"Thank you. Thank you Mr. Newsome, Doc." Charles kept his voice steady, the grief in his voice still dragging it down. "If you don't mind, M's Webb and I would like to be alone now."

"Doc and I will be across the street," Howie promised. "If ya need anything." He repeated. Charles gave a nod and the minute the door closed shut, he broke down and cried for the first time in years. There we sat, holding each other and crying.

"Our boy," I whispered, tightening my hold on Charles. "My baby." We cried for a while longer, until it seemed like we had dried up. Everything now felt empty and lifeless. Our house would not be a home anymore. The idea of our son being gone forever, being lost and ripped from my hands seemed like the job of a cruel and hurtful God. My son was gone and it was if with his life gone, he had taken with him my purpose of living. Charles offered that we go into the sitting room, pulling me up and guiding me to the couch where an hour earlier I had been waiting for my son to come home and talk for hours on end about his trip.

"_Now Wally, I want you to be safe while you're gone."Charles opened the door, ushering Wally outside._

"_Aw, papa! I'm sixteen. I can handle this, ya gotta trust me! I have to go now, goodbye! I'll be back Monday." _

"_Goodbye now," We called, waving from the door. _

"_Wally, fix your shirt."I cried after him. He turned around and smiled, tucking his shirt back into his trousers. He gave one final wave before running to catch up to his friends. _

I didn't tell him I loved him. My little boy died without knowing I loved him. As I sat with Charles arms still holding on tight to me and mine to him, I could feel my heart break time and time again.

"Mama? Papa?" Emily found us within moments and looked at us for a few moments. "What happened?" Charles took his time trying to explain, but once he uttered Wally's name Emily seemed to have gotten the idea pretty well. I pulled myself away from Charles and opened my arms to her. Childlike she ran into my embrace, sobbing and trying to regain her breath again. Charles embraced the two of us and there we sat for the longest time, crying and mourning, hoping and pleading that Wally would walk in at any moment. Instead, late afternoon Howie came by once more to tell us he was going home but that he would make sure no one disturbed us as he made his rounds the next morning.

That night I prayed that God would kill me instead. That I could die and Wally could come back, alive and well. Charles held me close that night, and while his sleep was troubled and woke him up often he would always see that I hadn't slept a wink. Not until early morning at least, when Charles gave up trying to sleep and coaxed me into at least sleeping for an hour. We both laid in bed for hours until Emily called us down to breakfast. I pushed through my desire to stay in bed and made an effort to get ready, giving up after I realized the lethargy that chilled me to my core.

Three places were set up at the kitchen table. Breakfast was just toast and bacon ("I didn't expect any of us to be hungry," Emily explained, pouring coffee. She looked pale and weary, just like Charles and I must look to her), and yet I found myself staring at where the fourth place should be set. The last time all four of us had eaten breakfast was the day of Emily's wedding and even then I hadn't eaten that much. Today, I ate nothing.

It took Charles the longest time to finally print about Wally's death and his obituary. _Local boy dies on camping trip. _The obituary was much more heartfelt and filled with Charles' brilliant writing. It was then the gifts and meals started to appear on our doorstep, George and William (our grandson) living in the Gibbs' house as the affairs were put in order. The funeral was the final piece of saying goodbye, and after that Charles and my's home was empty once more. Emily had gone back with George and William to her home and it was just the two of us now.

_Wallace Webb, beloved son. 1889-1905. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Matthew 5:8_


End file.
